


Change Of Heart

by Zee



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Confessions, First Time, Frottage, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Stranded in the Woods, Ushijima and Oikawa and Iwaizumi on the same university team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 12:07:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7934035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zee/pseuds/Zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Complications arising from Ushijima, Iwaizumi and Oikawa all playing on the same university team result in some fights between Ushijima and Oikawa. When they end up stranded alone in the woods for a night, they're forced to work some things out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change Of Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how plausible it is or isn't for a Japanese college sports team to drag their players on a team-building hike. I just needed an excuse to have Ushijima and Oikawa stranded together due to Shenanigans, so I apologize for any inaccuracies.

It feels right, it feels like exactly what he should be doing from the moment the ball hits Oikawa’s fingertips to the moment Iwaizumi spikes it to the moment, immediately after, that his spike is blocked. By the time the next moment comes, the sound of the ball hitting the floor on their side of the net, Oikawa has realized his mistake.

Match point. They’ve lost the game. 

Iwaizumi is bent over, breathing hard with his hands on his knees so Oikawa can’t see his face. Oikawa doesn’t look over his shoulder to see, but he can feel Ushijima’s stare on the back of his neck. Ushijima had called for that last toss, but in the heat of the moment Oikawa had made a snap decision, giving in to his high school instincts and tossing to Iwaizumi instead.

Even now, with the cheers of their opponent’s fans ringing in his ears, it’s difficult to feel like he’d chosen wrong. Difficult to imagine that he could possibly trust anyone else on his still-new university team as much as he trusts Iwa-chan.

As they head into the lockers after the requisite handshaking, Oikawa slaps Iwa-chan’s back and lets his hand stay there, curling his fingers slightly in Iwaizumi’s jersey. Iwaizumi glances at him and hesitates, as if Oikawa has unsettled him, which makes no sense since they always do this after losses. But then it’s back to normal, Iwaizumi reaching out to clasp Oikawa’s shoulder and squeezing hard. 

Oikawa hopes that Iwaizumi won’t be too hard on himself about that last spike. If anything it’s Oikawa’s fault--he should have given him a better toss, should have aimed higher or smarter or delayed--

Before Oikawa can travel any further down his self-berating spiral, the coach calls him over. Oikawa already knows what the coach is going to say and hopes that the criticism at least passes quickly; he doesn’t feel like getting yelled at for any extended length of time. 

Oikawa thinks that he feels Ushijima’s eyes on him as he trots over to their coach, but when he looks over his shoulder, Ushijima’s head is down as he walks into the locker room with the rest of their team.

Coach Gushiken is standing over by one of the supply closets, in the middle of a conversation with the assistant coach as Oikawa approaches. He spares Oikawa a glance and then makes him wait as he finishes his conversation. It’s the kind of power play that Oikawa has begun to get used to, with both his coaches and his upperclassmen always seeming so eager to remind him that he’s a first year again and far from being captain. 

At least he’s officially the starting setter as of two weeks ago, although it seems like a hollow victory since Iwaizumi--for sure, now--is not his ace.

By the time Gushiken finally turns to Oikawa, any post-game adrenaline has left his body and he’s exhausted. He just wants to shower and stretch and go home, to try to move on from this disappointing game. He stands straight in front of Gushiken, but he can’t stop himself from speaking when Gushiken frowns.

“Coach,” Oikawa says. “It was a bad toss, I know--”

“I’m not concerned about one toss, and you know it,” Gushiken says, cutting him off. “You have a larger problem.”

Oikawa presses his lips together and waits for Gushiken to continue. He’s staring at Oikawa like he wants Oikawa to really feel the weight of this, and since Oikawa knows what’s coming, it’s hard not to resent the pressure.

“I know that you and Iwaizumi are close, and that you and Ushijima were not friendly in high school. But you’re not in high school anymore, and if you’re going to play on this team I expect you to accept the decisions I make for the sake of the team.”

Gushiken meant the decision he’d made about Iwaizumi and Ushijima’s standings on the team. For the first few months of university, Iwaizumi and Ushijima had been rivals, competing for the one starting spot for a spiker available on the team. Oikawa hadn’t had to worry about his own ability to play; last year’s starting setter had graduated, and none of his upperclassmen setters approached his level. His spot was secure, but Iwaizumi--

Two weeks ago, Gushiken had declared that the starting lineup would include Ushijima, but not Iwaizumi. Oikawa feels foolish now that back in the day, he never considered this possibility in any of his many fantasies about playing for a university team; it had never occurred to him that he and Iwaizumi might play on the same team, but Oikawa would be expected not to toss to him.

“I do accept your decisions,” Oikawa says, but it’s a pointless protest, and Gushiken waves his words away as if he’d never even spoken.

“Your actions on the court say otherwise. I’m not talking about your last toss, since I’m sure you already know you made the wrong call there. I’m talking about your persistent pattern of tossing to anyone but Ushijima, and prioritizing Iwaizumi any time he’s on the court.”

Oikawa’s cheeks burn. He wants to defend himself, to point out that his reliance on Iwaizumi was a winning strategy at Aoba Josai and could be a winning strategy here, too, if Gushiken would just give them a chance. He wants to point out that Ushijima is still a fundamentally selfish, self-centered player, and that he only wants the rest of them to succeed if they do it in his shadow. But Oikawa knows this is not the time. He has to stand here and take this quietly, and then he has to change his playing style to fit Gushiken’s vision. He doesn’t have a choice. 

“Ushijima is your teammate now, and I expect you to treat him like one. I expect you to make snap decisions as a setter from a place of logic, not emotion. Despite the way you’ve been behaving lately, I still trust in your logical and strategic abilities. Don’t prove me wrong.”

All Oikawa can do is nod. 

“If you continue to favor Iwaizumi to the detriment of Ushijima or anyone else on the team, I’ll keep Iwaizumi on the bench,” Gushiken adds. And this time Oikawa can’t just take it, can’t prevent himself from arguing on behalf of his friend, who deserves so much more than what this team has given him so far.

“But sensei, that’s not fair, Iwaizumi hasn’t--”

“It’s not about Iwaizumi and it’s not about you. It’s about taking this team, _your_ team, as far as we can go. It’s well past time to leave your high school sentimentalities behind, Oikawa.”

Very few people have ever accused Oikawa of being sentimental, especially in volleyball. He shuts his mouth and grits his teeth.

“That’s all. I hope to see a new attitude from you at next practice.” And that’s it, Gushiken is turning away, pulling out his cell to look at something, the conversation clearly over. Oikawa wonders if anyone has ever accused Gushiken of sentiment. It seems unlikely.

Oikawa deliberately takes a lengthy shower, hoping to avoid talking to any of his teammates. At least it’s a home game, so he won’t have to suffer through a bus ride. 

When he turns off the water, he can hear the sounds of a locker banging, indicating that at least one person is still here. He’s half-hoping it’s Iwaizumi, but he’s not surprised when he sees who it actually is. Naturally. This shit sundae game needed a cherry on top.

“Let me guess, you don’t trust Coach to lay into me hard enough so you wanted to do it yourself,” Oikawa says, pulling his towel tighter around his waist. Ushijima looks up at Oikawa’s voice and stands from where he'd been sitting on the bench. He’s not even pretending that he wasn’t waiting to talk to Oikawa. 

Ushijima frowns. “He talked to you about your final toss?”

Oikawa rolls his eyes and heads to his locker, banging it open with more force than necessary. “He sure did! But why let that stop you from sharing your unwanted opinions?”

“I don’t need to point out your error if you already heard it from him,” Ushijima says, his tone all magnanimous like he thinks he’s being reasonable. Oikawa’s temper catches, lights, burns.

He starts getting dressed without looking back at Ushijima. He feels like yelling, but his voice comes out level. “Of course. Would you like me to go over all the mistakes you made today? Would you find that helpful?”

“If you’ve noticed any mistakes in my playing, then yes, I’d appreciate your observations.”

“ _If_ I’ve noticed?” Oikawa turns around half-dressed, his t-shirt in hand, aggravation knotting up his chest and making words come too fast. “I really would have thought you’d be less arrogant by now. After all, high school is over and your great Shiratorizawa was beaten in the end.”

He means the words to be weapons and they land to his satisfaction, making Ushijima’s face cloud over. But right now he’s not getting the thrill he’s felt before from goading Ushijima; he’s too angry, too raw from the match. And even if he were able to feel good for a moment about landing some verbal barbs, Ushijima sours it. 

“That’s in the past. I don’t play for Shiratorizawa anymore, and you don’t play for Seijoh. But you still act like you do.”

Oikawa has never hit anyone before. He’s never really wanted to, but Ushijima is proving to be an exception. He wonders if punching him now would get him kicked off the team. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, unable to keep his voice from rising. 

“Isn’t that what Gushiken spoke to you about?” Ushijima says. It’s infuriating, the confidence he has in his assumptions, and more infuriating that he’s right. “You toss to Iwaizumi no matter the odds, and today it lost us the match. You’re a better setter than that.”

 _You let this happen to yourself,_ whispers a voice in Oikawa’s head, strumming alongside the adrenaline making his muscles quiver. _You let him get you this upset, no matter how much you’d rather not care._ It feels as inevitable as a rabbit with its foot caught in a trap, broken and bleeding just like the shreds of Oikawa’s remaining pride. “I toss to Iwaizumi because I know I can rely on him to play his best for the team, not just himself. Why would I have the same faith in your abilities?”

Ushijima’s shoulders tense and the frown line between his eyebrows deepens. “I don’t believe you would have the same negative assessment of my playing if you could see it rationally.”

Oikawa laughs, bitterness on his tongue thickening the sound. “Try me! Is it so unbelievable to you that someone thinks you don’t deserve your starting spot on this team? Wake up, Ushiwaka. We’re not all as starstruck by you as you’d like to imagine.”

Ushijima’s stony expression cracks momentarily, expressing a fraction of some other emotion before the usual disapproval smooths over his features again. Oikawa wants to seize that crack and pry it open. 

“Insult me all you want,” Ushijima says, sharper than before, like maybe Oikawa has found an edge to him. “But we’re on the same team. There’s no telling where our careers will take us, you may have some opportunity to beat me someday, but right now all your opportunities to beat me are in the past.”

Ushijima’s voice hits Oikawa’s shoulders like cement blocks, nearly making him stagger. Oikawa doesn’t think before speaking, makes no calculations, just spits out pure feeling. “My tosses to Iwaizumi have nothing to do with you. Maybe you’d understand that, if you had any friends whatsoever.”

Ushijima’s eyes widen and he leans back, like Oikawa’s words had physical force behind them. Oikawa turns his back before he can notice anything else about the impact of what he said. He grabs his gym bag with shaking hands and slams his locker shut, leaving the room with his shirt still in his hand, not looking at Ushijima. Ushijima, who doesn’t seem to have a comeback, who doesn’t seem to be moving at all.

***

After their humiliating loss, there’s a break in the game schedule because of a five-day break from classes. Naturally they’re not free to spend the break relaxing, because Coach Gushiken has scheduled a team-building retreat. 

Oikawa doesn’t see the point. Not that he would have spent the days off relaxing--he would have been in the gym, getting extra practice in--but he resents being dragged off to spend five days not playing volleyball because their coaches have this idea that doing other things will help them cohere. 

“You’re just annoyed because it means being around Ushiwaka,” Iwaizumi says, irritatingly unsympathetic. “If it were the whole team without him, you wouldn’t care.”

“Can you blame me? He’s terrible,” Oikawa says. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and doesn’t reply, and Oikawa bites his tongue against elaborating further on Ushiwaka’s many faults. 

When Oikawa told him about the fight with Ushijima, Iwa-chan didn’t take Oikawa’s side, which was an unpleasant surprise. Instead he’d said, “Maybe he’s got a point.”

“What?! You agree with him about me being stuck in the past and him being untouchably perfect?”

“No, Asskawa. I just meant that maybe you shouldn’t toss to me as much now, you know? I’m not on the starting line.”

“You’re just being down on yourself,” Oikawa said. It had turned into an argument about who was beating themselves up more, Oikawa or Iwaizumi, and Oikawa hadn’t brought up Ushijima again, even though he desperately wants to explain his position until Iwa-chan agrees with him that Ushijima is intolerable and there’s no need for Oikawa to feel guilty about telling him he doesn’t have friends.

Iwaizumi hadn’t said anything about Oikawa’s low blow, which just makes Oikawa paranoid that he’s secretly judging Oikawa for being a terrible person. Oikawa wants Iwaizumi to absolve him, but he doesn’t want to ask for that.

He also hasn’t told Iwaizumi about their coach’s ultimatum. He doesn’t want to see the look on Iwaizumi’s face when he finds out that Oikawa’s actions are now a threat to Iwaizumi’s spot on the team. Oikawa knows he has to figure out what to tell him, because Iwaizumi will definitely notice when Oikawa has to stop tossing to him, but he’s delaying that conversation as long as possible.

Their team-building retreat is up in the mountains, a two-hour train ride from Tokyo and then another hour on the bus until they reach the cabins they’ll be staying in. They barely have a chance to set their bags down upon arrival before Gushiken orders the whole team on a hike, declaring that although today will be a comparatively short day, he still plans to work them to exhaustion.

Much to Oikawa’s irritation, Iwaizumi ruins Oikawa’s plans of hiking together and gossiping the whole time. Instead he falls in with a group of three of their other teammates, and Oikawa tries to walk with them and join in on the conversation, but it seems to be about some video game he hasn’t played, and he quickly loses interest. 

When he quickens his pace to get a better workout, pushing himself to the front of the line, he sees that Ushijima is walking far ahead of the rest of them. Of course--this is supposed to be a team-building exercise, so naturally Ushiwaka is being antisocial and focusing on his own strength, as usual. Oikawa’s irritation at Iwaizumi redirects itself easily, and Oikawa walks faster to catch up with Ushijima.

Oikawa is expecting Ushijima to say something when Oikawa reaches him, but he doesn’t even offer a basic greeting, just narrows his eyes and walks faster. If it’s going to be like that, fine. Oikawa also has nothing to say. It takes real work to match Ushijima’s pace, much to his chagrin, but he manages. 

Soon Oikawa loses himself in the hike--in what he would have to admit was a race, if he were being honest with himself. He knows that the point of hiking is supposed to be to look around and appreciate nature, noticing plants and birds and the sky, things like that. But Oikawa’s universe has narrowed to the dirt dusting up around two pairs of hiking boots plodding at a pace only barely slower than a run, to the sound of Ushijima’s heavy breathing next to him, to the sweat that keeps trying to drip into his eyes. He pushes past the point when his thighs start to burn on the uphill, and doesn’t even pause when he comes close to twisting his ankle on a loose rock. 

After they splash over a shallow creek, the chill of the air on his wet calves startles Oikawa enough to look around. He slows his pace, feeling more and more uneasy as he takes in the scenery around them. 

He has to call Ushiwaka’s name twice before Ushijima stops walking, turning to look at him with a grumpy expression on his face even though he’s sweating profusely and could probably use a break. “What?”

Oikawa gestures to the woods around them, and to the horizon, where the sun is almost gone. “Where are we? And how far back is the rest of the team?”

That makes Ushijima hesitate. He looks back, as if he can make out their coach and teammates if he squints hard enough. “They must have fallen behind.”

“I think they fell behind a few miles ago. And wasn’t this trail supposed to be a loop? We should have arrived back at the cabins by dinnertime, and it’s well past that.” His heart sinking lower, Oikawa looks closer at the trail they were on. Was this a trail at all? He’d been so focused on keeping pace with Ushijima that he hadn’t paid attention to any of the crossroads, choosing their path without any kind of conscious deliberation. It’s possible that they’d taken a wrong turn, misled by some flattened grass or something that mimicked the real trail.

“We should head back,” Oikawa says. He’s wondering if Ushijima will take this as some admission of defeat, but when Oikawa looks over at him, he’s nodding in agreement, looking just as alarmed as Oikawa.

They fall back into silence as they head back the way they came. But the uneasiness in Oikawa’s guts just got worse, because now that he was paying closer attention it was obvious that this wasn’t the right path--maybe it had been a real trail at some point, but it hadn’t been maintained as one in years. Because Oikawa hadn’t been paying attention before, it’s difficult now to retrace their steps.

And they’re losing light. The sun has set now, with dusk settling over them, and there’s no sign of the team or the original trail up ahead. Oikawa keeps going over the past few hours in his mind, wondering how he could have let this happen. Had their coaches noticed the two of them getting too far ahead--had Iwa-chan? Had anyone called out to them to slow down or stop, and Oikawa had been so focused on the race that he hadn’t even heard? What a mortifying thought.

“This is pointless,” Ushijima says and stops walking. Oikawa stops too, glaring at him. “We can hardly see. If we keep looking for the trail now, we could get more lost than we are now.”

Oikawa wants to object on principle, but Ushijima is right. He swallows down a swell of anxiety at their predicament--lost in the woods with Ushiwaka is the last place he wants to be. “What do you suggest then? You can’t spike your way back to camp.” 

Ushijima ignores the jab, making Oikawa feel like a child. “We should prepare to spend the night here and find our way back in the morning.” 

He suggests it without emotion, no inflection in his voice whatsoever, which just increases Oikawa’s own dismay. He crosses his arms over his chest, his fist reflexively clenching in the material of his shirt. “Spend the night? We have nothing to eat, no way to make shelter, nothing to sleep on. More importantly, I can’t think of anything I’d like to do less than spend the night with you, _anywhere._ ”

“I’m not happy about it either,” Ushijima snaps, finally matching Oikawa’s glare with one of his own. “If you see another option, please, enlighten me.”

“We should keep looking for the trail! It might not be that far ahead, what if it’s just over this hill?”

Ushijima shakes his head. “It’s almost dark. If we don’t stop now, we won’t have enough light to try and find anything to eat or build a fire. Besides, the landscape up ahead is more barrent, with fewer chances to find edible plants.”

“As if we’ll find any edible plants regardless,” Oikawa says. As he speaks, he feels a cold drop on the back of his neck. A glance up shows that another thing he completely failed to notice during his race with Ushijima was the sky filling up with dark clouds. Perfect.

“I probably can,” Ushijima says, and shakes his head when Oikawa scoffs loudly. “Believe me or not. I have an uncle who cares about wilderness survival and I learned what plants to look for from him.”

“I’m not going to eat anything you find, I don’t want to get poisoned,” Oikawa says waspishly. He knows he’s just arguing for the sake of it now--there’s no way he’s going to continue looking for the original trail on his own, not with it starting to rain in earnest.

“If you’d prefer to go hungry, then suit yourself,” Ushijima says. Then he strips off his jacket, holding it out to Oikawa. 

It’s so unexpected that Oikawa’s brain needs several seconds to process the offer. Then he steps back, offended. “I don’t need your stupid jacket! What, do you think I can’t handle rain while you can?”

Ushijima rolls his eyes to the sky like he’s asking a heavenly being for patience. “I’m wearing a long-sleeved shirt and long pants. You are in a t-shirt and shorts.”

“If you think this makes you a gentleman, it doesn’t,” Oikawa says, to be difficult. Ushijima doesn’t respond, just shoves the jacket into Oikawa’s chest and lets it go, so that Oikawa has to either catch it or let it fall to the wet ground.

“I’m going to find food,” Ushijima says, sounding more cross than Oikawa’s ever heard him before. “Stay here or keep going, it’s up to you.”

He leaves without giving Oikawa a chance to fire back, heading into the trees. With the light so low, he’s quickly out of sight, and Oikawa has to breathe through his anxiety again. Ushijima will come back: there would be no point to him leaving Oikawa here, not when Oikawa is standing on this measly half-assed trail which is their only chance of finding their way back to camp and the rest of the team.

Besides, Oikawa has his jacket. Oikawa puts it on, because it’s raining enough now that he’s starting to get cold. The jacket is far too big for him in the shoulders, giving Oikawa another stab of irritation at Ushijima and all his unnecessary muscles.

He doesn’t want to use up the battery life on his phone, and besides he has no reception up here. So Oikawa grabs a stick and traces designs in the mud to pass the time. He’s putting the finishing touches on a yelling Iwa-chan when Ushijima finally returns.

He’s used the hem of his shirt to form a kind of basket to hold whatever he’s managed to forage. His shirt, Oikawa notices now, only has three-quarter-length sleeves, barely offering more protection from the elements than what Oikawa’s wearing. But Oikawa’s not going to return the jacket now that he’s gotten used to wearing it.

Also, the way he’s holding his shirt up and away from his body means that some of the skin on his stomach is visible. Oikawa averts his eyes.

“Nice drawing,” Ushijima comments as he sits down a few feet away. The compliment knocks Oikawa off-kilter and annoys him--he didn’t ask for Ushijima’s opinion, why would he have?--and he’s about to tell him off when he sees all the things spilling from Ushijima’s hands to the ground.

“What the hell is all that?” Oikawa asks, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Takenoko,” Ushijima says, pointing at what looks like bamboo. “Akebi, hasukappu berries, and various roots.”

“Did you dig those up from the _ground?_ ” It’s a stupid question--Oikawa can see the dirt on the tips of Ushijima’s fingers--but he doesn’t know how else to react. Nothing that Ushijima has brought back looks particularly appetizing, but Oikawa has gotten pretty hungry, and they don’t have other dinner options.

“Yes, the soil here is soft. All of these would be better cooked, but with this rain I doubt I could build a fire.”

Oikawa shuts his mouth against asking if Ushijima really knows how to build a fire without matches or lighter fluid. He doesn’t want to admit that he certainly couldn’t do that. “All of those could still be poisonous.”

Ushijima doesn’t answer, instead picking up one of the bamboo shoots, peeling off the outer leaves and sticking it in his mouth, all the while calmly maintaining eye contact with Oikawa. The bamboo seems hard and difficult to eat, requiring Ushijima to do some gnawing, but Oikawa has to admit that he doesn’t seem to be poisoned.

It doesn’t take long for Oikawa to give in, suspiciously starting with some berries (they seem fine, even if they don’t taste great) before moving on to the roots. Between the two of them, everything disappears fast. It’s not anything close to a full meal, but it’s far better than going hungry.

“The coaches must be very unhappy with us,” Oikawa says, picking at his bamboo stem and debating if he wants to keep trying to chew nutrients out of it or if he should just give up. “I don’t think losing two of their players on the first day was part of their plan for this trip.”

“They’ll probably make us do drills as penance,” Ushijima says. He seems to be done eating, leaning back on his hands to stare up at the sky. “Even though we’re not supposed to be doing any volleyball during the retreat.”

From Ushijima’s voice, he shares Oikawa’s negative feelings about going five days without volleyball. Oikawa snorts and gives up on his bamboo shoot. “So pointless. As if going on hikes or playing games in the woods is going to help us improve.”

“I agree. We should be using this time for practice matches, instead.” 

Ushijima says it with the same bullheaded arrogance with which he expresses all his opinions. Oikawa finds that he minds it slightly less when Ushijima is agreeing with him. “I know! This whole team-building thing is nonsense, we’ll get to know each other by being on the court. Seijoh never did anything like this and our team was plenty bonded.”

Oikawa realizes too late that bringing up his old team was probably a mistake, and he’s braced for Ushijima to use the opportunity to continue their previous disagreement. But Ushijima is nodding, still looking up even though there are no stars, only cloud cover. “Neither did Shiratorizawa. Maybe it’s more of a tradition at the university level, but that doesn’t make it necessary.”

“Exactly,” Oikawa says. Ushijima doesn’t elaborate further, and their brief moment of actually agreeing on something fades away. Oikawa feels increasingly uncomfortable with the silence beginning to stretch between them. He never likes silences, almost always finding them intolerably awkward. Iwaizumi is one of the only people with whom Oikawa can settle into a comfortable silence, and even so, Iwaizumi constantly gripes about him talking too much. 

But this isn’t just his usual discomfort with silence. Strangely, Oikawa wants to keep pulling on the thread of their conversation, like they’d started to gain some sort of curious momentum and he’s not yet ready for it to die. Oikawa doesn’t know why he cares, but this is really the only time they’ve ever exchanged words without antagonism, so maybe it’s just the novelty making him curious. 

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier.” The words spill from Oikawa’s mouth in an unplanned rush and he has to catch his breath. A part of him is viewing this from the outside, remotely marveling at him apologizing--apologizing!--to Ushiwaka-chan, of all people. “When I said you didn’t have any friends. It was uncalled for.”

Oikawa can feel Ushijima turn to stare at him and he refuses to meet his eyes, looking hard at the treeline instead. His heart is pounding, which strikes him as an unnecessary and annoying biological response to blurting out an apology. 

“Thank you,” Ushijima says, and Oikawa rolls his eyes at the serious tone, formal as ever. “I appreciate the apology. I am happy to put those words behind us.”

“The rest of what I said still stands,” Oikawa says. “Don’t misunderstand me.”

Ushijima sighs. “I realize that. I had not expected you to change your mind on our other points of contention, not yet.”

“‘Not yet’?” Oikawa looks at him now, scowling. “What, are you predicting I’ll someday see things your way just because I apologized for saying one mean thing?”

“I’m making no such prediction,” Ushijima says, and Oikawa finds it deeply satisfying to hear aggravation tinge his voice. “I am just trying to thank you for realizing it when you took things too far. Although--” Ushijima stops, and now he’s the one looking away, staring at the grass at his feet while Oikawa stares at him. It’s dark enough now that it’s difficult to make out Ushijima’s expression, but Oikawa can see that his lips are pressed into a thin line. Like he’s going through some kind of internal struggle over whether or not to say more. 

The pause lasts so long that Oikawa had started to suspect he wouldn’t continue. “What you said was not entirely wrong,” Ushijima says eventually, his eyes still on the ground. “I don’t have many close friendships.”

This is not news to Oikawa. He’d known that Ushijima doesn’t have many friends; that was the whole reason he’d said that: he’d wanted to fling a painful truth in Ushijima’s face, wanted Ushijima to hurt the way Oikawa had been hurt when he’d been told that his opportunities to beat Ushijima were in the past. 

But it surprises him to hear Ushijima admit this out loud. Surprises him that Ushijima would leave himself vulnerable like this to Oikawa, of all people, someone who had tried so deliberately to hurt him very recently. 

Oikawa feels no desire to take advantage of the opening. Ushijima, consciously or not, is giving Oikawa an opportunity to be something other than vicious by baring his throat to him now. And while Oikawa does not, as a general rule, care about Ushijima’s opinion of him, at this moment he didn’t want to see Ushijima’s disappointment if Oikawa chooses his usual cruelty over compassion.

“Oh, pfft, don’t let that petty shit I said get to you,” Oikawa says, trying for lighthearted. “I know you have friends. What about your Shiratorizawa teammates? They seemed to like you well enough.”

Ushijima frowns, still looking down. “I am no longer a Shiratorizawa student.”

“Why does that matter? Have they not kept in touch?”

“No, they--” Ushijima takes in a sharp breath, finally flicking his gaze up to glance Oikawa’s way. “Tendou and Shirabu call me, and Reon often messages me on facebook.”

 

“You see? They wouldn’t bother if they didn’t like you. You must have something to offer them beyond just your volleyball abilities,” Oikawa says. “Not that I can really see what that might be,” he adds, unable to help himself.

To Oikawa’s surprise, the corner of Ushijima’s mouth lifts in almost a smile at the insult. “Perhaps,” he says. “But those relationships do not come naturally to me, now that we’re not teammates. I do not have the familiarity with them that you seem to have with Iwaizumi, or Hanamaki and Matsukawa.”

Oikawa waves a hand, dismissive. He’s automatically turning now to face Ushijima, focusing his body language on him. He isn’t sure why he’s determined to take the subject of Ushijima’s social life seriously in this moment, but it seems like an important thing to work through and solve. “With Iwa-chan it’s different, we’ve been friends since we were kids so you can’t really compare that. He’s family. But you’re right, I’m good friends with Mattsun and Makki. We’ve partied together and we rely on each other off the court just as we did on the court. I’m sure you could have that kind of relationship with your guys if you tried.”

“How?” Ushijima says, and it’s such a helplessly confused question that Oikawa can’t help but soften further, wanting to help.

“You just have to be open with them, you know, friendly.” Ushijima just gives him an uncomprehending stare, and Oikawa sighs. “Tell them about your life, or ask them about their lives, their interests outside volleyball. What do you talk about when they call you?”

“I--usually talk about volleyball,” Ushijima says, and at least he has the grace to look embarrassed.

“So simple, Ushiwaka-chan.” Oikawa rolls his eyes, and a distant part of his brain notes that this is making him smile, which is odd and perhaps interesting. “I love volleyball, too, but you need more than that to have a real relationship with someone! Next time they call you should ask them if they’ve heard any good music lately, or how their studies are going, or ask them for stories about their family or something. Or share some anecdotes of your own! You grew up on a farm, you must have some funny animal stories, right?”

Ushijima lips pull to the side in a skeptical expression. “Not as many as you’d think.”

“Oh, whatever. I’m feeling generous so I’ll give you a funny anecdote you can tell them, it even involves our new team: last week when Iwaizumi and I went out with some of the third years, Hitomi told Mayuzumi that he couldn’t match him for drinks and told us all this story about Mayuzumi needing to get carried home after two drinks. Then Mayuzumi challenged him to a drinking competition and not only did he win, but Hitomi threw up on Mayuzumi’s shoes. There, it’s all yours, I entirely cede my own right to use this story when charming people. You need it more than i do.”

“That’s a disgusting story,” Ushijima says. Oikawa throws his hands in the air at Ushijima’s hopelessness, but Ushijima is still speaking. “How did you know I grew up on a farm?”

“I--” Oikawa frowns. When had he learned that? He doesn’t have a specific memory of hearing about it, it just feels like something he’s always known. “I don’t know. Does it matter? I’m sure you’ve picked up facts about my life, too. We _have_ known each other since we were twelve.”

Oikawa feels the impact of his own words only after they’ve left his mouth. He’s never thought of Ushijima as someone who actually _knows_ him, but it’s true that they’ve been acquainted with each other for seven years, even if they’d been opponents for almost that whole time. The only other person who’s been an active part of his life since junior high is Iwaizumi. 

Maybe that counts for more than Oikawa had realized.

Ushijima’s eyes widen slightly, like Oikawa’s just given him the same realization. His hand falls to the ground beside his knee to fiddle with a piece of grass, his fingers running over the plant’s edge without pulling it from the ground. It has to be a nervous gesture, which Oikawa can hardly believe. Not once, in all the time they’ve known each other, has he ever succeeded in making Ushijima feel nervous, and right now he’s not even trying.

Oikawa looks back at the trees, laughing a little. He doesn’t know what to make of this whole bizarre conversation; it’s no longer raining, and he doesn’t know when it stopped. “I don’t like thinking about it either, how long we’ve been stuck with each other. It’s annoying.”

Ushijima laughs too, and it sounds almost sad. Oikawa gets the distinct feeling that he’s not laughing for the same reason Oikawa was. “Annoying is not the word I would have chosen.”

Much to Oikawa’s mortification, his cheeks start to grow warm. He will not let himself ask Ushijima what words he would use to describe what they’ve been to each other. Oikawa will not ask, because he does not care. 

His concentration on not asking means that things go quiet again. This time it’s Ushijima who breaks the silence. 

“I also said some things I regret, during that conversation. I should not have lost my temper like I did.”

Oikawa stiffens. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to hear Ushijima try to apologize for telling Oikawa that all his opportunities to beat him were in the past. 

“It’s fine,” Oikawa says, sharp. “We don’t need to talk about it. What I said to you was worse, anyway.”

“Still,” Ushijima says. “Oikawa, look at me.”

How like Ushijima, giving Oikawa a command like that. Oikawa looks, and sees Ushijima’s intent stare, his expression displaying a particular kind of earnestness that Oikawa hasn’t seen on his face before.

“Iwaizumi is a talented player. If there were two open spots for starting spikers, I would be happy to play beside him. I want to play beside him. He and I are on the same team, as are you, and if it were up to me we would all be playing together.”

Oikawa feels like all the breath has been stolen from his lungs. This is not, at all, what he had expected Ushijima to say. Not what he thought Ushijima might feel guilty about. He wants to point out how vicious Ushijima had been while competing against Iwaizumi these past few weeks, wants to remind Ushijima of the times he implied that he thought Iwaizumi was beneath him. Instead, the part of Oikawa’s brain that likes to get him into trouble is answering for him, saying in a sly voice, “Are you sure? You wouldn’t be jealous, if I were tossing to both of you?”

Oikawa wishes he could make out more of Ushijima’s expression. He doesn’t look away or dodge the question. “Maybe I would be. It’s hard to say.” 

Oikawa shakes his head. “It’s just a toss. Nothing to be jealous over.”

“It’s--” Oikawa listens, almost in awe, as Ushijima takes in a shaky breath, as stops himself from saying whatever he’d been about to say. Oikawa is intensely curious--no, curious is not the right word. He feels hungry. He wants to know what Ushijima isn’t saying.

“It’s more than that,” Ushijima finishes, looking down at his lap.

Oikawa moves for the first time since he’d first sat down, crawling over on his knees until Ushijima looks up at him, startled. 

“Why do my tosses mean so much?” Oikawa asks, hunger making him blunt. “I know I’m good, but I’m not _that_ good.”

Now that Oikawa is up in Ushijima’s face, even in the darkness he can make out Ushijima’s frown. “Yes, you are,” he says, as if Oikawa is slow. “You know I have always thought highly of your abilities.”

“But I was never good enough to beat you.” Somehow those words are easier to say than he would have thought. Somehow they don’t stick in his throat, choking him. It’s easier like this, looking Ushijima in the eye from up close, sitting alone with him in the middle of the woods. This isn’t a volleyball gym. There’s dirt beneath both their knees, and here there is no point in hiding from painful truths. “Kageyama--”

“This has nothing to do with Kageyama,” Ushijima says, cutting him off. Oikawa’s mouth snaps shut. “I have never felt any desire to spike his tosses, even after his team beat mine. And I have never understood why you felt inferior to him when your excellence is obvious to anyone who has ever seen you play.”

Oikawa feels dizzy. He wants to focus on Ushijima calling him excellent, but there are so many other things to focus on, so many things Oikawa would have never imagined he’d hear. He doesn’t want to talk about Kageyma right now, not with Ushijima so close and telling him such fascinating things, but as always Oikawa can’t help it, can’t keep himself from petty jealousy when it comes to this. “He’s a better setter than I am. He’s a genius.” 

“Genius is not everything. I respect his abilities, but I do not--” Ushijima stops. His cheeks look like they might be red, and he’s breathing hard. So is Oikawa.

“You don’t what?” It’s like speaking past sandpaper. It’s like setting the ball without looking, fearing that no one will be there to spike it. 

“Please,” Ushijima says. “Don’t ask me to humiliate myself.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.” Oikawa reaches up to Ushijima’s shoulder but touches his neck instead, his hand curling around his head, his fingers brushing Ushijima’s hair. 

“Then I don’t understand.” Ushijima is staring into Oikawa’s eyes like he can’t look anywhere else. Oikawa wants Ushijima to look at his mouth instead.

Oikawa leans forward. _What are you doing?_ screams a small, distant part of him. But it’s so much easier to ignore that voice than it should be. Easy to tighten his hand on Ushijima’s nape, easy to close his eyes, easy to pause and feel the slight puff of Ushijima’s breath against his lips. 

Ushijima makes a small, vulnerable noise when Oikawa kisses him. Then he moves forward, his hands coming up to settle on Oikawa’s shoulders, keeping him close. 

It stops being easy the second Ushijima kisses him back. Not because he isn’t a good kisser--he’s a much better kisser than their earlier conversation regarding his total lack of social skills would have led Oikawa to predict (who taught Ushijima to kiss well, if he doesn’t even know how to make friends?)--but because Oikawa starts to really enjoy it, and his enjoyment throws his thoughts into chaos. 

What is he _doing?_ He’s never thought about doing this before. In all the years he spent competing against Ushijima, he never imagined that this is how their relationship would go. All right, there is that dream he’d had that one time, but otherwise never. And that disturbs him, to realize that he’s thrown himself into a situation that he’d never thought about, never calculated a strategy for. 

Worse, this situation involves Ushijima, who has humiliated Oikawa more times than could be counted, yet pleaded with Oikawa not to humiliate him here. Ushijima, who Oikawa is supposed to accept as the ace instead of Iwaizumi. Is Oikawa really this easy? All it takes is a little bit of conversation, Ushijima being nice to him for once, Ushijima acting vulnerable, and Oikawa is practically in his lap. 

This last train of thought makes Oikawa pull back, breaking the kiss. He turns his face to the side so that Ushijima’s lips meet his cheek, trailing over his jaw. Ushijima makes another noise, deep and desperate into Oikawa’s ear, and Oikawa’s whole body reacts, his spine arching in response to Ushijima’s voice. It scares him and he clenches his hands in the front of Ushijima’s shirt, pushing himself back.

“This isn’t--” Oikawa doesn’t know how to finish that sentence, doesn’t know what he’d been going to say. _This isn’t a good idea_ and _this isn’t real_ are both probably true statements, but he finds that he doesn’t want to say them. Not with the way Ushijima is looking at him, eyes wild and distracted, so far from his usual stern composure. 

“Don’t,” Ushijima says, and Oikawa wants to laugh at how ridiculous they must sound, making so little sense, not even speaking to each other in full sentences. He stares at his own hands, still clenched in Ushijima’s shirt. He’s still wearing Ushijima’s jacket.

“Okay,” Oikawa says. He’s never felt less like himself. Ushijima’s arms tighten around him, and Oikawa doesn’t resist when Ushijima kisses him. It feels right, is the thing. It feels like something he should have done (could have done?) a long time ago, feels so much better than losing to Ushijima or refusing to toss to him.

Does letting Ushijima kiss him like this mean that Oikawa has given up? Does it mean that Ushijima has won again?

Everything in Oikawa resists that thought, and he wants to pull away again. Ushijima strokes a hand down Oikawa’s back like he can tell, and Oikawa bites Ushijima’s bottom lip in response. Ushijima just kisses him harder, holds him closer. He reacts the same way when Oikawa grips him by the hair and tugs, not gently. 

Oikawa really is in Ushijima’s lap now, and this is quickly proving to be a problem. Oikawa has had sex with women before, and he’s kissed boys, but he’s never felt someone’s erection pressing up against his own. Even with the layers of both their pants, it’s overwhelming. It reminds Oikawa of what he imagines choking might feel like. Which isn’t, necessarily, unpleasant, but it makes thinking difficult. And why does he need to think so much, really, while they do this--

Every time either of them pause to breathe, Oikawa starts to wonder what they can possibly say to each other now, after this. The thought makes him panic, so he always ends the pause by kissing Ushijima before anyone can start talking. It’s intense--too intense--Ushijima hasn’t touched Oikawa anywhere below the waist but Oikawa is burning up. 

_We can’t have sex,_ Oikawa thinks desperately. He can’t have sex with Ushijima on the ground while they’re lost in the wilderness. That’s too ridiculous, and there’d be no coming back from it. Already there might not be any coming back from this, might not be a way for Oikawa to save face later. If they have sex it will truly obliterate normal for both of them. And if Ushijima isn’t thinking about such things (which seems increasingly likely) then it’s up to Oikawa to be the rational one, to end this, to face the awkwardness that will surely come if they stop kissing each other for fifteen seconds.

Oikawa pulls back and opens his mouth, takes in a breath to say something along the lines of ‘hold on’ or ‘we should stop,’ but Ushijima chooses that moment to push up, just slightly, with his hips. Oikawa’s whole overthinking brain short-circuits. He grinds down with his own hips and fuck, he can feel the friction in his whole body. Beneath him, Ushijima shudders, and Oikawa’s mouth is still open like he’s going to say something, but he can’t talk now, can’t do anything but rub stupidly against Ushijima, his greedy body already reaching for an orgasm that _he doesn’t want to fucking have._

Each time Oikawa tries to move back (and okay, could be trying harder), Ushijima just follows him. Oikawa’s attempts to keep his own hips from thrusting just result in Ushijima grabbing his waist and thrusting up against him harder, keeping him still and moving against him. When Oikawa pushes him away it somehow turns into the two of them falling over and then Ushijima is flat on his back with Oikawa on top of him.

 _And isn’t this just how you’ve always wanted him?_ The thought flicks like a lightbulb turning on in Oikawa’s brain, and he can’t deny its sudden clarity. It’s true that he’d never thought consciously of kissing Ushijima before tonight, but there is a difference between something that never occurs to you because it is uninteresting, and a thought you _have_ to suppress just to keep going.

This is so obviously the latter, because Oikawa never could have competed against Ushijima in high school with this on his mind. And right now, with his lips on Ushijima’s neck and his thigh shoved against the bulge in Ushijima’s pants, he can’t imagine going from this to being on the court with him. Somehow Oikawa will have to toss to Ushijima without catching on fire, which seems flat-out impossible.

Oikawa doesn’t think he could stop his hips from moving if the whole team suddenly materialized around them. He can hear his own noises and it’s embarrassing, this is all so embarrassing, but Ushijima is groaning too, occasionally gasping in a voice higher-pitched than OIkawa has ever heard from him. Ushijima seems to like it when Oikawa kisses and bites at his neck, and instead of this piece of information making Oikawa feel powerful he just feels helpless.

His mind circles back to the conversation that started all this like water circling a drain. Ushijima had said that genius wasn’t everything. What the fuck does he even know about it? Oikawa is so close to coming but his mind keeps providing him with flashes of images from high school: Ushijima telling him he’d chosen the wrong path, Ushijima standing in his way, Ushijima scoring the final point in games against Seijoh again and again and again. (Ushijima admitting that he found it hard to make friends, Ushijima telling him he valued Iwaizumi.) Oikawa’s fist clenches in the material of Ushijima’s shirt, he wants to rip it, he can’t stop moving his hips and he wants--

“But you’re a genius,” he says, the words ground through his teeth and spoken into Ushijima’s neck, and he knows he sounds ridiculous, like he’s continuing a conversation that had begun in his own mind. But Ushijima’s hand grips Oikawa by the hair and drags his head up until they’re at eye-level, and he is not laughing.

“That--” Ushijima gasps as Oikawa pushes his thigh down viciously against him. “--doesn’t matter--”

Oikawa twists his head out of Ushijima’s grip and rears up on his hands and knees, staring down at him as his stomach clenches with anger and painful dread, momentarily overtaking his arousal. “ _Don’t tell me it doesn’t matter!_ ”

“That’s not--I didn’t mean it like that,” Ushijima says, and at least he sounds upset, at least he isn’t above this. Oikawa needs to cling to that fact with both hands. “It doesn’t matter _here_ , with you, I--it doesn’t make a difference in how much I--”

Ushijima cuts himself off with a moan, but his jaw is still working, he’s still trying to speak. “Oikawa, I--”

Oikawa has never heard Ushijima talk like this, didn’t know he was capable of it. It’s too much. Following some blind impulse, he covers Ushijima’s mouth with his palm, and Ushijima grabs his wrist and squeezes it tight enough to bruise. He drags Oikawa’s hand down and then wraps his lips around Oikawa’s index finger, sucking on it with his eyes shut tight. 

Oikawa stares down, shaking. He is so hard, so close that it hurts. 

“I want you,” Ushijima says, Oikawa’s fingers against his lips. “I’ve wanted you for years--”

“How many?” Oikawa can’t stop the question, but he hates himself for asking. Partly because the question comes from the worst part of him, and partly because he’s so much more invested than he wants to be in the answer. 

Ushijima opens his eyes, staring up at Oikawa as Oikawa works himself against Ushijima’s hip. Oikawa thinks of Ushijima’s request earlier, to not ask him to humiliate himself, and he wants to take his question back but he can’t. Helpless. 

“How many years did you say we’ve known each other?” Ushijima says, speaking now with all the coherence he’d lacked before. Oikawa can hear the note of bitterness in his voice, too, and it gives him a flash of guilt--more than a flash, because Ushijima’s confession has sent him spiralling over the edge, and all he can do is cling to Ushijima’s shirt and dig his fingers into the corner of Ushijima’s mouth as he comes in his pants. 

After the orgasm Oikawa’s body has gone liquid. He lets go of Ushijima and falls off of him, rolling until he’s on his back. Looking up, the night sky is still cloudy, with only a few stars peeking out. It makes Oikawa a little sad. 

The afterglow offers only seconds of respite from thinking. As his heartbeat begins to slow, Oikawa’s awareness of the sticky situation in his pants grows, as does his anxiety about Ushijima. Ushijima hasn’t moved since Oikawa moved off him. He’s so still that Oikawa has a moment or two of panicked worry that he somehow knocked Ushijima unconscious or killed him, but then he starts to sit up.

“Excuse me,” Ushijima says, his voice strained. “I’ll be right back.”

That startles Oikawa out of his post-orgasm stupor. He grabs Ushijima’s wrist before he can stand. “Hm? Where are you going?” 

“I just need to take care of this,” Ushijima says, gesturing awkwardly at his lap and not meeting Oikawa’s eyes. It still takes Oikawa a beat to realize what he meant. 

“You’re not--no,” Oikawa says, inarticulate. He sits up all the way, pushing closer to Ushijima. To Oikawa’s confusion, Ushijima leans away. “You don’t have to go off into the trees to jerk off, I’m right here. I’ll do it for you.”

Ushijima is so stiff that already, it seems hard to believe that he was sucking on Oikawa’s fingers just minutes before. “If you don’t want to, I’d understand.”

Conflicting emotions run through Oikawa: hurt that Ushijima thinks so low of him, to assume that Oikawa just wouldn’t reciprocate; curiosity about what Ushijima will look like when he comes; desire for Ushijima, for a return to their physical closeness that he now feels awkward without; but beneath all that, an unfortunate hesitation to touch Ushijima, which he knows he can’t reveal. He can’t prove Ushijima’s negative assumptions about his character correct. “Why wouldn’t I want to? Come here.” 

Ushijima still won’t move, tension visible in the line of his shoulders even though his erection is also obvious through his pants. Oikawa tugs more insistently on his wrist. “I want to, all right? Don’t just leave.”

Finally, finally Ushijima relents, relaxing slightly and letting Oikawa pull him in. Ushijima is still vibrating with tension and reluctance when Oikawa kisses him, so Oikawa gets his hand into Ushijima’s hair and kisses him harder, mulishly pushing his agenda until Ushijima finally melts.

Oikawa ignores his own hesitation and reaches down to Ushijima’s lap. It takes some fumbling to get Ushijima’s pants opened without breaking the kiss to look down, and it doesn’t help that Ushijima keeps shuddering and gasping. By the time Oikawa finally has access to Ushijima’s boxers, self-consciousness burns in his cheeks. Without his own arousal to distract him and guide his actions, this feels more difficult.

He can’t show that to Ushijima, though, for a number of reasons. Pride chief among them. So he gets Ushijima’s boxers down and touches Ushijima’s dick, trying as hard as he can not to think about this being weird. Ushijima must have felt Oikawa’s dick through his pants the whole time Oikawa was on top of him, and this isn’t _that_ different.

Except that Ushijima’s dick seems to be bigger than his. Oikawa _really_ doesn’t want to think about that right now. 

Ushijima’s dick is hard enough to leak pre-come, slicking up Oikawa’s palm. He works him faster, and this is harder and weirder than doing the same thing for himself, but Oikawa still thinks he’s doing a decent job. Ushijima breathes fast and uneven in Oikawa’s ear and Oikawa presses his lips to Ushijima’s jaw, his throat. Rushes of unidentifiable feeling pass through him. It’s been so long since he last did this with anyone--it’s been since his one girlfriend dumped him, two years ago--and in this moment it’s easy to feel like his past experience never even happened, like this is the first time he’s made someone’s breath hitch like this.

It doesn’t take very long. Ushijima grabs Oikawa, his fingers digging hard into Oikawa’s shoulder and his back, and goes rigid. He doesn’t make a sound, but Oikawa can feel the change in his dick as he ejaculates. Some of it gets on Oikawa’s fingers, which Oikawa is stupidly shocked by even though he shouldn’t be. 

Eventually Ushijima starts to breathe again, relaxing his death grip on Oikawa. Oikawa gives him space to collapse on the ground, which he does while Oikawa surreptitiously wipes his hand on some grass. 

The silence is loud. There’s nothing out here, the quiet more pervasive than even back home in Miyagi, let alone the constant noise of their lives in Tokyo. Oikawa makes himself look down at Ushijima, meeting his eyes without flinching when Ushijima looks back at him.

He doesn’t know if he should lie down beside Ushijima. Well, probably he should. But he doesn’t know if he can. They’re just staring at each other now, and cuddling seems like an impossibility. 

All the concerns about the future that Oikawa had while they were making out seem grimly vivid now. How are they going to play on the same team now? This changes everything, but Oikawa’s not sure he’s capable of changing, not when it comes to Ushijima. That’s exactly what Gushiken had criticized him for, after all.

When Ushijima breaks the silence, his words make Oikawa feel uncomfortably transparent. “Does this change anything for you?”

Oikawa scowls at him turns away, hugging his knees to his chest. “Does it change anything for _you?_ ”

“Only in that you know my feelings now.” Ushijima’s voice is quiet and resigned, pulling at Oikawa’s sympathies. But feeling sympathy for Ushijima makes him angry, which then reminds him of all the other reasons to be angry with Ushijima. Seven years of reasons.

“Don’t tell me you don’t have _any_ expectations,” Oikawa says, more sarcastically than he’d intended. He bites his lip, immediately guilty for lashing out so soon after moments of intimacy, but Ushijima--of course--answers him sincerely.

“No expectations, just a hope,” Ushijima says, then hesitates. Oikawa it seems to take forever before Ushijima finishes the thought, and apprehension makes Oikawa stiff. But Ushijima doesn’t say any of the things that Oikawa had been half-dreading, half-hoping for. Instead he says, “I hope that eventually you might tell me what your feelings are. Since you know mine.”

Oikawa wants to cry. It’s hard to believe that Ushijima can’t already guess what Oikawa’s feelings are, but when Oikawa risks a look at him, his eyes are uncertain. He really doesn’t know--but of course he doesn’t, because Oikawa himself has no idea what his feelings are. He’s cycled through so many emotions regarding Ushijima in the last hour alone that no assessment seems reliable. 

“I’ll try,” Oikawa allows. Ushijima’s eyes tighten at the corners like the answer upsets him, and Oikawa grits his teeth, looking away again. “We might as well go to sleep. There’s not really anything else to do, and we’ll probably wake up with the sun.”

Oikawa doesn’t wait for a reply (although Ushijima quietly says “okay”). He lies down on his side, his back to Ushijima. Even though he just came, the ground is cold and his thoughts are wired, bouncing unhappily around his skull. And his briefs are sticky, which is going to make the trek back to camp tomorrow just wonderful. 

He wrestles with himself at first, but he doesn’t have the heart to resist this impulse, so after a short internal debate he inches back until he’s closer to Ushijima. He stops when the backs of his thighs touch Ushijima’s hip. 

Ushijima doesn’t respond, and Oikawa debates standing up and walking out into the wilderness in the dark rather than lie here with this mortification. But then Ushijima shifts, rolling onto his side so that he fits against Oikawa. He puts an arm around him, the touch tentative and light, but it might as well be a firebrand against Oikawa’s heart. He wants to push away, and he wants to move in closer, both so much.

He has no idea what he feels.

***

The morning is predictably awkward. They don’t talk much. Oikawa wakes up in a good mood, instinctively happy with the warmth of someone holding him, and when last night’s memories come back to him the mood splinters like a mirror in a dream. 

Ushijima avoids his eyes for the whole morning. Oikawa doesn’t want to examine why that upsets him. 

Thankfully it’s not an issue once they start walking. Just like yesterday, they don’t talk and they keep up a swift pace. Oikawa can almost pretend like last night never happened. 

They haven’t gone far at all when two men who worked at the cabins found them. Apparently their coaches had sent scouts to various points off the trail looking for them--people had been out searching for them last night, too, but they’d been so far in the woods that they hadn’t been found. Oikawa tries not to think too hard about the possibility of some park ranger finding them while he’d been jerking Ushijima off. It’s already embarrassing enough. 

When they finally return to the cabins around lunchtime, teammates immediately swarm them both. Oikawa tunes out Gushiken’s yelling and lets Iwaizumi embrace him, closing his eyes at the familiar feeling of being clasped in Iwa-chan’s stranglehold.

Perhaps he should get stranded in the wilderness more often; Iwaizumi is so relieved to see him that he doesn’t even call Oikawa an idiot or an asshole. Instead he keeps a hand on Oikawa’s shoulder even after the hug is over, and says “Fuck, I can’t believe you had to spend a night in the woods with that asshole, it’s a miracle you survived.”

Ushijima is about ten feet away talking to other teammates, and Oikawa can’t tell if he heard. 

“It could have been worse,” Oikawa says, and changes the subject.

***

Oikawa doesn't see much of Ushijima for the rest of the retreat. He can't tell if it's happenstance or by design--Ushijima might be avoiding him, even though Oikawa wouldn't have thought he'd be the type.

It gives Oikawa a chance to turn things over in his head. He's now keeping two secrets from Iwaizumi--Gushiken’s ultimatum, and hooking up with Ushijima. He can't imagine telling Iwaizumi either of these things without telling him about the other, and guilt eats at him every time he remembers how easy it was not to think about the ultimatum long enough to have sex with someone Iwaizumi still probably saw as the enemy.

And he can’t imagine telling Ushijima anything about his feelings, regardless of what he decides they are, without talking about it to Iwaizumi first. Which means he can’t do much of anything. It’s driving him crazy and Iwaizumi has noticed, calling him out on his irritating behavior during the retreat. 

On the bus down from the mountain, Iwaizumi finally snaps. “All right, out with it,” he says. “Please just tell me whatever it is that’s turned you into a horrible troll child. And do it fast because I want to take a nap.”

Oikawa doesn’t even have it in him to whine about Iwa-chan being mean or rude. He just sighs and leans his head against the bus window, and Iwaizumi frowns harder like it’s a bad sign that Oikawa isn’t being petulant.

“I’ll tell you later,” Oikawa says. “Not here.”

“When? I want a date and a time. Otherwise you’ll just keep putting it off and making yourself miserable.”

Oikawa smiles. “So concerned, Iwa-chan! Tonight after dinner, okay? I’ll come by your room.”

When Oikawa tells him at the appointed time and place, Iwaizumi doesn’t get pissed off or extremely sad like Oikawa had feared. He stays stoic throughout Oikawa’s explanation of the conversation with Gushiken, although Oikawa notices his jaw working at the part when Gushiken threatens Iwaizumi’s position on the court.

When Oikawa tells him, haltingly and with too much cringing, about hooking up with Ushijima, Iwaizumi starts laughing. Oikawa is so surprised he can only stare. 

Iwaizumi refuses to explain why he finds it so funny, instead demanding that Oikawa give him more details. Once he’s finished, Iwaizumi shakes his head.

“Wow,” he says. “Ushiwaka has liked you for ages. I had no idea. Wait, am I still allowed to call him Ushiwaka?”

“Oh my god, of course,” Oikawa says, offended. “How can you even ask that!”

“Just checking! I don’t want to be told off for making fun of your guy.”

Oikawa narrows his eyes. “What do you mean, ‘my guy.’”

Iwaizumi gives Oikawa a look like he’s stupid. “You like him, don’t you?”

“I--” Sometimes Oikawa appreciates this quality of Iwaizumi’s, how he never sees or dwells on all the complications that Oikawa agonizes over. But often it’s frustrating. “I don’t know! It’s not that simple.”

“It sure seems like you like him. Why not see where it goes?”

“How can you be so casual about this?” Oikawa points an accusatory finger at Iwaizumi. “He was so rude to you!”

“So? I was rude to him too, we were competing for the same spot on the team.” 

“But Gushiken wants me to toss to him instead of you.”

“That’s not really his fault. I just need to improve my own playing.” Seeing Oikawa’s dismayed look, Iwaizumi shakes his head. “Look, man, if you want me to give you an excuse to hold back on your feelings, look elsewhere. I don’t care what you do with him.”

Iwaizumi more-or-less giving his blessing leaves Oikawa at something of a loss. That night he can’t sleep, can’t stop having imaginary conversations with Ushijima in his head, sentences that are by turns accusatory and heartfelt and flirtatious and angry forming and dissipating in his head. Usually he jerks off when he can’t sleep, but he doesn’t want to find out how much of a struggle it will be not to think of Ushijima when he touches himself.

He gives in to the urge to text Ushijima at around 2am, asking to meet him for a chance to talk after practice tomorrow. He’s not really expecting an immediate reply (there is no way Ushijima isn’t the type who always gets his 8 hours of sleep each night), but it still pisses him off not to get one.

But he wakes up to a text from Ushijima, inviting Oikawa to come back to his dorm room after practice. 

Volleyball, at least, is less awkward than Oikawa has feared. He feels guilty when he realizes it, but Iwaizumi knowing about Gushiken’s opinions makes it a lot easier to toss to Iwaizumi less and toss more often to the other spikers (including Ushijima). Iwaizumi doesn’t call for his spikes so much, only doing it when no one else is available. Throughout practice, Oikawa gets more and more used to it. 

It’s starting to really feel like he’s not playing for Seijoh anymore. That hurts, no matter how necessary it might be. 

Ushijima is waiting for him outside the gym when Oikawa is done showering and changing. When Oikawa smiles at him, Ushijima looks surprised, like he was expecting something else--a hurled insult? A cold shoulder? It dims Oikawa’s smile a bit.

On the walk back to Ushijima’s dorm, they mostly discuss the practice. Like Oikawa, Ushijima had also noticed the team working better together, but if he attributes that to Oikawa tossing less to Iwaizumi, he doesn’t say so. Instead he seems to think that the team-building retreat did some good, after all.

“Well, it certainly helped us work some things out,” Oikawa remarks. To his delight, Ushijima goes bright red, staring down at his feet as they climb the steps to his dorm’s front door. “This is a lot more fun when it’s light out so I can actually see you blush,” he teases, and Ushijima gives him an affronted look.

Ushijima’s roommate is absent when they get to his room. Ushijima probably gave him advance warning so that he could vacate the premises; it’s what Oikawa would have done. Now that they’re here and it’s time to actually discuss things, Oikawa’s teasing mood has all but evaporated. He has to resist the urge to wipe imaginary sweat off his palms; he doesn’t want to give himself away with a nervous gesture like that.

Oikawa busies himself with looking around the room and Ushijima seems content to let him, sitting on his bed but saying nothing to imply that Oikawa needed to start talking already. Oikawa lingers by the bookshelf, running his fingers over book spines. The bottom shelf is computer science textbooks, some sci-fi novels, and Harry Potter, and the shelf above that is all biology textbooks with a couple of books on volleyball (and one on the Olympics) that look worn and well-loved, like the owner has had them for years. Looks like the bottom shelf is the roommate’s while the top shelf is Ushijima’s.

“So you want to know my feelings,” Oikawa says, letting his touch linger on the book about the Olympics before his hand drops to his side. He doesn’t turn around. His heart is racing like it’s his turn to serve.

“Yes,” Ushijima says, very simply. Oikawa thinks he might like that about Ushijima: that he keeps things simple, most of the time. Maybe there are more things he could like about Ushijima.

“You know me,” Oikawa says, and then stops. It’s not what he meant to say, not what he thought he was going to start with, but before he can roll it back or at least finish the thought Ushijima says,

“Yes, I do.”

And Oikawa has to close his eyes and breathe.

“So you know that I can hold a grudge,” he says when he’s able to continue. Each word feels like giving something up. “Maybe especially against you. It’s hard for me to forgive or forget.”

“I don’t expect you to. The past has shaped both of us.”

Finally Oikawa turns around. Ushijima is hunched over, leaning with his elbows on his knees and his eyes trained on Oikawa. Oikawa can’t read his expression.

“That’s awfully gracious of you,” Oikawa says. “I wonder if you’ll be so magnanimous when your boyfriend is rude to you for no reason, but you can guess it’s because he’s thinking about all those times you beat him in the past. Or when you have to bend over backwards to be nice to him because losing to his old kouhai has put him in a terrible mood. Or when he selfishly refuses to be happy for your accomplishments because he’s jealous.”

Ushijima quirks an eyebrow. “Boyfriend?”

“Focus on what’s important!”

“Fine.” Ushijima sits up completely and shrugs, like he doesn’t even have to think it over, like nothing Oikawa just said has disturbed him at all.

“I’d probably be annoyed in those situations,” he says. “But it doesn’t seem so bad to me.”

Oikawa has to swallow past a lump. “How about when he breaks up with you because he’s incapable of forgiveness?”

 

This, at least, Ushijima does not shrug off. He sits there quietly, meeting Oikawa’s eyes, studying him. 

“That would be difficult, if it happened,” he says. “But every relationship has the same kind of risk. Every relationship might end someday.”

Oikawa wants to argue, wants to get Ushijima to admit that Oikawa is a particularly terrible prospect for a romantic partner, but there’s a voice that sounds like Iwaizumi’s in his head, telling him not to fuck things up for himself. So instead he crosses the room and sits down next to Ushijima, close enough that their legs touch. 

“No promises,” he says. “It was one night. That doesn’t really mean anything, in and of itself.”

“Oikawa,” Ushijima said, sighing heavily. “Do you have feelings for me or not?” 

Oikawa wants to argue that it’s not that simple, but he knows Ushijima will dismiss those arguments as easily as he dismissed the risk of Oikawa’s awful personality. So instead he kisses Ushijima. At first it’s more awkward than it was in the woods, but then Ushijima wraps his arms around Oikawa and pulls him down onto the bed.

“I do,” Oikawa says later, in the middle of their clothes coming off. “Have feelings for you, I mean.”

Ushijima pulls back from kissing Oikawa’s neck to look him in the eye. He smiles, and kisses Oikawa on the mouth instead. “I’m glad.” 

Oikawa closes his eyes and lets the tension leave his body as he lies back on the bed, Ushijima trailing kisses down his neck. Maybe it can be that simple, at least for now. Maybe some kind of tentative future with Ushijima can give him a respite from the stranglehold of the past. Maybe.

Oikawa lets himself cry out when Ushijima makes him feel good and Ushijima answers by making him feel even better, and everywhere they touch warmth seeps through his veins like gold, like victory.


End file.
